


the lights will be on when you come home

by PrettyBoyBergara



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Gore, Kissing, M/M, No Beta, Supernatural Elements, i am the worst at tags im so sorry, impled/referenced depression, not alot though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26222230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyBoyBergara/pseuds/PrettyBoyBergara
Summary: Ryan finds Shane on the back porch of a haunted house. A conversation ensues.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	the lights will be on when you come home

Nothing had been wrong, which was the worst thing. Shane hadn't been acting strangely at all before this. Everything had been fine. Unusual, maybe, but no cause for fear.

When Ryan had shown Shane the file on the house they were going to,Shanes eyes had widened with delight and a genuine excitement for the place. It was more than the usual leveled "Cool. Let's do it. I can't wait" Ryan normally received. Not that he wasn't always eager to jump into whatever Ryan wanted to do this time around. A fun job was still a job, after all. It's that this particular location had brought forth an unusual golden joy.

When questioned about it, Shane had simply turned and pushed back in his chair, exclaimed "It's in the midwest, baby! Fields and open sky"! He had laughed, fully and completely; the pure, unbridled mirth in his eyes had made Ryan laugh too.

They'd kept that energy for the whole drive up to Nebraska, even when the clouds had darkened overhead and eventually opened up over the highway. It was still raining when they pulled up, an old grey house against a grey sky on a grey morning. Hoods up and damp they'd gone in, everyone except Shane. Shane, who had stayed outside to ""bring things in"".

Shane, who Ryan had never seen like  _ this _ , caught through a window. Crouched down in the wet grass, his eyes closed and head tipped back to face the sky, grinning wildly.

(Ryan isn't entirely sure, but the downy light and fog had made it appear Shane had fangs peeking from the corners of his mouth.)

They were still an odd six hours from Chicago, and Shane looked like he was home. 

Everything with filming had gone fantastic, and then Shane got a call some time in the afternoon on their down time. He went outside, sans coat, still smiling ear to ear, and when he had come back, it was like a switch had been flipped.

  
  


Soft hazel eyes had gone flat and hard and he'd stopped talking. Shane looked scared.  _ Terrified _ . Ryan asked what was wrong, a hand on the wrist. Shane flinched, laughed-forced a laugh, Ryan realized- and said it was fine. They'd thrown granola bars at each other and played chopsticks and pretended it was fine.

  
  


So, ultimately, it's no surprise when Ryan wakes up that night, and immediately knew something is wrong. The tall, familiar presence at his side is missing. He rubs his eyes, and rolls over in his sleeping bag. Slats of moon glow through the ceiling and cast deep indigo shadows on everything around them. Ryan can hardly see to confirm what he already knows. Shane is not lying next to him. 

A notification lights up Shane's phone, purely by chance, and for a few seconds it illuminates his empty bedding, perfectly straight like he'd never been there at all. His backpack and a handheld camera rest where his head would be. Ryan frowns, runs a hand through his hair and gets up. Shanes probably just taking a piss or something, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Ryans own phone is void of new messages. He ignores the bags and he ignores the chilling anxiety that always grows in his stomach when he's left alone in these places.

  
  


He calls Shanes name through the hallways and doors. He threatens him with holy water if he doesn't come out. He swears he'll pack up and drive to the nearest hotel by himself. He'll leave crumbs in bed for a week at home. The wind carries Ryan's voice throughout the old stone and wood. Shane does not answer.

"This isn't funny, Shane! It's Two AM! where the fuck are you?"

He forces himself to look in every haunted bedroom and closet in case Shane finally saw a ghost and had decided to hang himself out of shame. Shane's dead eyes when he'd come back flash in his mind, as does the way he rubs his wrists sometimes and the panic comes back cloying. Shane knows something Ryan doesn't.

A familiar fear snakes through Ryans veins and his heart sinks to the Marianas trench.

Something is very,  _ very _ wrong.

He needs to find Shane.

He searches the whole house twice, even going as far to walk around the very upstairs floors, wincing at every creak and groan. It's a barely manageable feat at the best of times, in daylight with friends at his back and his job on the line. Never mind without the inky darkness or Ryan putting his foot through the floor or walking through a spiderweb. In current, his hands are starting to shake and there is an ever growing lead-heavy knot in his stomach. Shane- the bastard knows Ryan hates to be alone in these places and he's gone and left him. Ryan screams Shanes name as loudly as his constricted lungs allow him, until the anxiety finally claws its way up his throat and chokes him into a scared silence.

"I'm going to have a panic attack you asshole!" he tries again after a few minutes. Maybe the guilt will lure him out. Ryans voice falls apart entirely on the last word, turning to verbacular smoke in the rafters

Ryan wants to cry. 

He sits on the stairs so heavily they groan. He tosses a look over his shoulder, half to make sure they won't collapse, and half hoping its Shane coming down from hiding to sit besides (thing) and pull him into a hug.

He swipes at his eyes, the meat of his palms digging in until there's a small array of colours behind his eyes. He

pulls out his own phone without thinking, presses the call button under Shanes name. 

Across the room, the screen lights up and starts to ring. The sound grates on his ears. It is a useless thing, listening to the tune sing. It brings him no comfort. 

Ring.

Ring. 

Ring.

Ring. 

He turns his head away, as if that could block out the noise, to be greeted with flicker of gold around the corner. It comes and goes in rapids, as if the bulb is dying.

Gold. Purple. Gold. Purple. Black. Gold.

A light is on outside.

It's the one place he hadn't thought to check.

Finally, finally, Ryan finds him by the back porch. 

It's a beautiful night. the sky is beyond black here, instead a deep blue and purple that LA's city lights had never allowed. The moon is full and he can see thousands upon thousands of stars. There's no wind either. The rain had cleared up sometime in the evening, and left behind the smell of something clean and very, very alive. With the animals asleep, the only life to benefit is the two of them. 

He almost trips on Shanes boots in his haste, left lying in front of the door. Ryan goes to make a joke about the ghosts scaring Shane out of the house, although the words in his throat die in awe. He is too distracted by the way his boyfriend is standing. Leaning against the railing besides the stairs. His head is tipped back and one hand is tangled and knotted through his own hair. There's a hazy yellow halo around his body where the back light hits him before fading out. Beyond lies only trees and darkness and mysterious things meant for another season.

He cannot see Shanes face.

So rather, it's just for Ryan.

Ryan opens his mouth to call for him instead, and stops himself. Shane is lost in his own head. It is all too quiet, and Ryan can't quite find it in himself to break it. He'll come up when he's ready. He's here, he's fine, and that's what matters. 

So Ryan waits. 

Until a quiet sob tears itself from Shane's throat. Shanes hand disappears from his head and leaves a smear of dark behind. 

_ Blood _ , the darker part of his mind whispers. The tranquility is gone.

"Shane?" Ryan asks, stepping closer until he's at the railing, and his arms are wrapping around Shanes shoulders. He's taller up here. He hooks himself naturally over Shane's shoulder, pressing his chin into a pressure point he only hopes is grounding. The short hairs at the back of Shanes neck tickle his nose.

_ Don't worry. I'm here. Please dont panic, please don't run away. Please let me in. _

“What are you doing out here? I couldn’t find you and got worried”

Instead of answering, Shane tenses, going sharp and riged. Dead still. The lines of the body of the taller man are familiar, but everything else about him feels wrong. Even Shane's own breathing, hitchee and unsteady, feels stilted and rehearsed. It is alarmingly cold for a warm man. Even more alarming, is Shane's hair smells of muted iron. 

"Are yo-"

Between one heartbeat and the next, Shane rips away from Ryan's arms faster than Ryans ever seen him move. In less space then it takes to blink, Shane has retreated far out of Ryan's reach. Normally gentle brown eyes are blown wide and wild. They have the familiar puffiness that comes with crying. There's more dark in his hair, and somethings been half scrubbed from the corner of his mouth. He's too far away for Ryan to make out the finer details, not that he needs to. Ryan knows Shane.

This is not his boyfriend as Ryan knows him. This is someone-something-something else. 

"Are you ok?" Ryan tries again. He takes one step down and Shane takes one step back, retreating into the dark. Something screeches in the distance, Shane shuddering in response to the noise. His hands come up to clutch at his arms. The anxiety on its own is a familiar thing, but the movement is so unlike him, that for a moment, Ryan worries that this isn't Shane at all, that somethings taken over his body between one moment and the next he's ended up in one of his horror movies, and at any moment his boyfriend is going to lunge and tear out his throat.

Ryan swallows. His own hands start to shake. He tells the voices in his head to hush, digs his nails into his hand to focus on Shanes words.

"Fine. I'm fine. I was just looking at the stars" 

Ryan doesn't miss the way Shane's voice cracks, or how he scrubs at his cheek again with the sleeve of his jacket. He doesn't miss how the very corner of Shanes mouth pulls up when he moves, and a fang very clearly peaks out. 

He won't look at Ryan for more than a few seconds.

"Your shoes are by the door."

"I like the feeling of grass under my toes"

"Since when?"

"Since always. You don't know everything about me, Ryan"

Another crack. Another step back. Ryan stays still.

"Ok, fair enough. Can you explain why you were crying?" 

He's on the stairs now, one hand holding onto a support, the other still twitching at this side. This Shane is a skittish cat, something that needs to be approached slowly and lured in. The last thing he wants is for Shane to run off into the dark at three in morning. 

"I was looking at the stars" Shane huffs. "and I started thinking and-got little bit lost in my head and became over- overwhelmed. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes. I know you, and you don't cry often. Are you sure ok?"

Shane breathes in once, twice, three times before he talks again.

“Im- I'm  _ fine _ ." He emphasizes A pause. Something caws into the night, making Shane flinch in fear.

"Shane, please, tell me whats--"

"Fine. I'm not fine" he snaps. "I'm not. But i don't want to talk about it right now. Ok, Ry?"

Hazel eyes lock on umber brown at last, daring him to counter. Shanes hands drop down to claw at his thighs . He still looks ready to bolt and now, having admitted his feelings, Ryan really can't blame him. But he can't be left alone. Neither of them can. He doesn't trust Shane not to disappear between one blink and the next if he moves too fast. Ryans been there, he needs someone during those times too. They've always existed on the same wavelength, after all. 

Ryan leans forward, bracing himself with the support beam, and offers his hand.

"Thats fine, Baby. We can talk about it when you're ready. Please just come inside."

"Ok" he whispers.

He crosses the light to the steps, taking Ryan's hand. They stop there, Shane on the bottom of the steps and Ryan three up, equal height. Their entwined hands swing between them. Shane closes his eyes when Ryan puts his other hand on Shanes cheek and swipes away the drying tears. He leans into the touch until his forehead taps against Ryans, almost a nuzzle.

"You can talk to me, you know. I want you to if it means it won't come to this again.

"Ok" Shane murmurs

"I mean it."

"Ok"

"I am dead serious. You don't have to hide from me, Shane."

"Ok"

"I-”

Ryan is cut off by Shanes lips on his. The kiss tastes bitter, saltwater tears and icy air, and lasts only for a moment. Ryan tips his head to get a better angle, a tiny move to savior the moment. When they break, Shanes brown eyes are open and no longer clouded with wet. If it were any other situation, he could mistake the gold and green flecks in his eyes for the same stars that glitter behind him.

"Don't scare me again like that please. Ryan says softly.

"I won't.” Shane returns. 

The second kiss tastes the same, although, if you had asked, they would say it had a sweeter tinge. There's the touch of a tired smile nipping at Shanes lips when they part. Ryan runs a thumb over his boyfriends freckles cheek one more time, relishing in the nuzzle he gets in return.

Ryan takes it as a win.

Shane lets the younger man haul him up the stairs and lead him to the door. They stop only to let Shane crouch and pick up his shoes, his free hand holding them to his chest.

They lock the back door behind them and enter inside with intertwined fingers, Shane's nails digging into the back of Ryan's hand. They feel sharper than they did that afternoon, but he doesn't pay any mind to it.

The splinters in his palm press against his skin, sweaty and flush with Shanes, as they walk back towards the seating room. Ryan squeezes once, a silent support. The other man drops his nails and squeezes back.

Within minutes they are back in their sleeping bags, sweet laughter bouncing off the stone walls of the old home. It echoes back to the men's ears, the breakdown momentarily forgotten

It was definitely blood on Shanes hand and in his hair, but Ryan doesn't think about it. 

It's a topic for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll let you decide what kind of creature Shane is.  
> Come talk to me on [ Tumblr ](https://prettyboybergara.tumblr.com/)


End file.
